


one day

by courvoisierinmycoffee



Series: soulmates [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Modern AU, Season Six Spoilers, Second thing added, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-08 09:44:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7752706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courvoisierinmycoffee/pseuds/courvoisierinmycoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone sees in black and white until they make eye contact with their soulmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt onto tumblr asking for a Sansaery soulmate AU where you see colours when you meet your soulmate and it returns to black and white when they die.
> 
> This is all in show verse, and dialogue from the show is used here. Purely for the show verse due to the season six finale.
> 
> Any mistakes are my own. Constructive criticism is welcome (watch me cry over it, though) and questions are too! 
> 
> Find me on tumblr @greyyjoys where this will also be posted.

From the moment she was taught about soulmates, Sansa had been desperate to meet her own. Tales of love and colours plagued her thoughts, whilst Arya scoffed at the very idea of having someone complete you. Her sister found it ridiculous, but Sansa had already fallen in love with her soulmate.

The stories of colours intrigued her, too. Life was dark and dreary for Sansa, with its selection of greys. Sansa dreamt of the colours, and the day they would come to her. She was desperate to see the red of her hair, the blue of her brother’s eyes, and the rich silks of her dresses in all their beauty.

“One day,” Catelyn often promised, touching gently at Sansa’s soft hair. Her hands moved quickly, plaiting and tugging with ease.

“Soon?” Sansa would question in response, twisting around to look hopefully at her mother.

Catelyn would always roll her eyes fondly, tutting at Sansa to look ahead. The girl did as told, back straightening each time as her hair was braided. “One day.” Catelyn repeated, the same reply each time. When she finished with Sansa’s hair, her mother would kiss her forehead softly and leave the girl to her dreams of soulmates.

* * *

The news of the King’s visit had only fueled Sansa’s need and desire to meet her soulmate. It _had_ to be Prince Joffrey. Who else would be any more perfect?

When she meets him, he proves to be as beautiful as she had hoped, although Sansa’s world does not light up with colour. She keeps it to herself, though, as the Prince compliments her red hair – an obvious hint that his world is full of bright colours.

Perhaps, their arrival will take time. She is sure Joffrey is her soulmate, but the Old Gods (and even the Seven, Sansa suspects) are simply giving her time. Time to fall in love, she believes, despite already being completely smitten. One day, as her mother often said.

Joffrey is not as perfect, nor as kind, as Sansa had originally thought. There is a cruelness about him, but it is rarely directed at Sansa herself. He is still her soulmate, that she is sure of. Any doubts are simply down to nerves, which is understandable. Sansa is only young, after all.

Joffrey is a better person than they believe; he _has_ to be.

* * *

Once, there had been a point where Sansa had prayed, pleaded, and begged for Joffrey to be her soulmate, but her soulmate would never murder her father.

She is relieved that, whilst her father is dead and her world is crumbling around her – she is completely tainted by King’s Landing and the cruelty of the Lannisters now – that the King, that _monster_ , is not her soulmate.

No colour shines around him, showing off his supposedly golden hair or shining red lips. For once in her life, Sansa is glad for it.

(They are still betrothed, though. Sansa is doubtful she will ever meet her soulmate, not when she is hidden away in the Red Keep. She will marry Joffrey, as she had once dreamed of doing, and have his children. They will be happy.

Sansa despises Joffrey, though; despises his whole family (except Lord Tyrion, who is the kindest of them all, yet still terrifying); despises everyone in King’s Landing.

There is no happiness for Sansa, yet she paints on bright smiles ( _weak! weak! weak!_ ) and declares her love for Joffrey Baratheon as if nothing has changed.

Yet, everything has.)

* * *

Her whole world seems to light up with the arrival of Margaery Tyrell.

Sansa is hidden away, head bent down, when Joffrey is given Margaery’s hand. Selfishly, she is pleased to be free of the corrupt King, yet she fears – is absolutely terrified – for her replacement. Joffrey will _destroy_ Margaery.

* * *

Shortly after the Tyrell return to King’s Landing, she is invited to meet with the King’s future wife and her grandmother, Olenna Redwyne.

The Knight of Flowers, who had once given her a beautiful rose, escorts her. Loras is as gorgeous as she remembers, even more so in a way, and Sansa wishes he were her soulmate. They would make a beautiful couple, yet looking in his eyes awakens no colour for her. It is no surprise, though.

“I believe you grow more beautiful every day, Lady Sansa.” He compliments, arm linked with her own. He is not her soulmate, but perhaps he could still wed her. Even with her father’s death, and the war declared by her brother, the Tyrells would benefit well from an alliance with House Stark.

 _And he thinks you beautiful_ , a voice adds.

“You are too kind, Ser Loras.” Her voice is soft, similarly to her smile. They continue walking in silence, and she looks to him hopefully. _Perhaps_. “You probably don’t remember the first time we met,” She begins, heart breaking a little at the glance of inquiry he gives her. _Please_. “At the Hand’s tourney, you gave me your favour.” _A beautiful red rose_. Loras shakes his head. “A rose. A red rose.” _Remember me!_

He nods then, humouring her. “Of course I did.”

They reach Margaery soon enough, saving Sansa from her embarrassment.

“Thank you, dear brother.” Margaery says, but Sansa barely glances at her. Her gaze remains on Loras, as if he will remember her.

“I’ll take my leave.” He smiles for the first time, a real one. “Lady Sansa.” Loras gives her a short bow, before twisting on his heel and moving to go. Sansa watches him.

“Thank you, Ser Loras.”

“Come!” Margaery touches her arm, and Sansa finally turns to look at the older girl. Their eyes meet. A shocked breath leaves Sansa, as colour enters her world and overwhelms the redhead. She notices the darkness of Margaery’s hair, the light and pretty patterns of her dress, the shock of her bright blue eyes. This is her _soulmate_.

Neither say a word, but Margaery’s facade crumbles for a moment and she looks at Sansa in surprise. Then, she smiles brightly, turning to guide Sansa toward Lady Olenna. Margaery’s hand touches lightly at her back, a pressure that Sansa feels throughout her whole body. She melts into it, almost happy.

“Lady Sansa.” Her name on Margaery’s lips has Sansa shivering, and the other girl only smirks knowingly. Why had Sansa ever hoped that Joffrey was her soulmate when _this_ is what was waiting for her? “It is my honour to present my grandmother, the Lady of Olenna of House Tyrell.”

Sansa greets her appropriately, before glances at Margaery to give her own condolences. Her soulmate – _soulmate!_ – seems saddened, but not as a grieving widow would. Margaery is sad for someone else.

“Renly was brave and gentle, grandmother.” Margaery chides her grandmother, and Sansa looks back at her. “Father liked him, and so did Loras.” It is quiet, but Sansa notices how Margaery stresses her brother’s name. Olenna sighs knowingly, before beginning to rant.

Lady Olenna’s honesty has her smiling, and the offer of lemon cakes brings a happiness to her that she hasn’t felt in a long while. She is sat across Margaery, and the two girls watch each other. Sansa is shy, whilst Margaery appears confident and regal. She is beautiful.

At the question of Joffrey, she stutters over kind words, struggling to lie in front of Margaery. Olenna interrupts, demanding the truth.

“I’m to be his wife.” Margaery reminds her. Sansa does not want Margaery to marry him.

“Are you frightened, child? No need for that.” Sansa is. She has been for a long time, but the Tyrells – _Margaery_ – make her feel almost safe. “We’re only women here. Tell us the truth. No harm will come to you.”

Her father had been truthful. Now, her father was dead.

“Joffrey.” Olenna looks up, curious. “Joffrey did that.” Joffrey took his father’s head, murdered him. “He promised he would be merciful and cut my father’s head off.” Margaery watches her. Sabsa’s voice grows stronger, _harsher_. “And he called that _mercy_. He took me up on the walls and made me look at it.” She swallows, blinking back tears.

“Go on.” Margaery says gently, reminding Sansa that she is not alone.

“I can’t. I never meant…” She begins, tripping over her own words. She doesn’t want to lie, but Sansa _needs_ to. “My father was a traitor. My brother is one as well. I have traitor’s blood. Please don’t make me say any more.”

Margaery turns away, almost disgusted. “She’s terrified, grandmother. Just look at her.”

“Speak freely, child. He will never betray your confidence, I swear it.”

Sansa trusts them.

“He’s a _monster_.”

* * *

They rarely see one another, not as often as either would wish, but it is a breath of fresh air for the both of them.

Margaery takes her for walks in the gardens, and Sansa finds she can be truthful with the other woman.

Sansa _adores_ her.

* * *

“Back at Winterfell, all I ever wanted was to escape.” Sansa confides one day, as they sit together. Margaery’s hand is a gentle touch in her own, keeping Sansa grounded. “To come here, to the capital. To see the southern knights and their painted armour. And King’s Landing after dark, all those candles burning in all those windows. And to meet my _soulmate_.” Margaery squeezes her hand in comfort. Sansa drops her gaze, shaking her head. “I’m stupid. Stupid little girl, with stupid dreams, who never learns!”

Margaery forces her to stand, her eyes comforting as her touch moves to take Sansa’s arm in her own. “Come,” She prompts, as she always does. “Come walk with me.” Their walks are Sansa’s only solace.

“I remember the first time I saw you in the throne room. I’d never seen anyone who looked so unhappy. I want very much for you to be happy, Sansa.” Sansa believes her. “And so does my grandmother.” Margaery drops her arm, stepping to break a rose from the bushes beside her. “You would have been happy at Highgarden.” Sansa knows this to be true. She has dreamt so desperately for days spent in Highgarden, with Margaery. “But women in our position must make the best of our circumstances.”

“How do I make the best of my circumstances?” Sansa questions, looking down at the rose Margaery holds. “I have to marry him.” The _Imp_.

Margaery offers the rose to her, and Sansa takes it with pink cheeks. Margaery smirks, pleased. Sansa will cherish the flower.

“Has Lord Tyrion mistreated you?”

“No.”

“Has he been kind to you?”

“He’s tried.”

“You don’t want him, though.”

 _I want you_ , Sansa wants to shout, but she does not. “He is a Lannister.” She speaks instead.

“Far from the worst Lannister, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’m sorry!” Sansa is quick to say, reminded of Joffrey and the horrors he has caused. With Margaery, it is forgotten that she was once so unhappy. “Here I am complaining to you.”

“My son,” Margaery interrupts. “Will be King. Sons learn from their mother’s; I plan to teach mine a great deal. And your son, if I’m not mistaken, your son might be the Lord of Casterly Rock _and_ the North someday.” Sansa frowns. “What?”

“My son,” She closes her eyes. “With him? I’ll have to…we’ll have to.” She grips tightly at the rose.

“If it’s the pain you’re worried about,”

“I’m not afraid of the pain. Not after what Joffrey has done to me.” Margaery’s hand brushes against her arm, but she does not reach out for the redhead.

“What is it, then?”

Sansa looks at her, and Margaery laughs quietly.

“He’s rather good looking, even with the scar. Especially with the scar.”

“He’s a dwarf. And you–Loras.” Sansa shakes her head, correcting herself. Margaery smiles sadly. “And Loras.”

“Some women like tall men, some like small men. Some like hairy men, some like bald men. Gentle men, rough men, ugly men, pretty men, pretty _girls_.” They look at one another. “Most women don’t know what they like until they’ve tried it, and sadly, so many of us get to try so little before we’re old and grey.” They slow their pace, turning to each other again. “Tyrion may surprise you. From what I’ve heard, he’s quite experienced.” Sansa does not care for that; Tyrion is not her soulmate. Margaery _is_.

“And that’s a good thing?”

“It can be. We’re very complicated, you know, pleasing us takes practice.”

“How do you know all this? Did your mother teach you?”

“Yes, sweet girl.” Margaery says, affectionately. Their arms link again. “My mother taught me.”

* * *

As the wedding grows closer, their time together becomes rarer. Their walks are shorter, and stolen moments consisting of quick kisses no longer happen. Sansa’s heart shatters with each day that Margaery’s wedding comes closer, and her own marriage lasts longer, but she understands.

 _But women in our position must make the best of our circumstances_.

Sansa reminds herself of those words everyday.

* * *

On the day of the wedding, Margaery looks beautiful. She is a Goddess amongst them, and Sansa is blessed to have her as a soulmate. It does not matter that they will never be able to truly love one another. Sansa would never ask for anyone else.

Her rare moment of happiness is soon shattered, when the King falls dead. She is delighted to begin with, until they point to her husband in blame, and in extension, her. Sansa is whisked away by Ser Dontos, her gallant fool. She panics at the thought of leaving Margaery behind, but they are soulmates and _will_ meet each other again.

* * *

The Vale is nice, a new home away from Winterfell and Margaery, but her Aunt often scares her. And when she is threatened to be thrown from the Moon Door. She fears Margaery will lose all colour from her world and will never know what happened to Sansa.

Except, her aunt falls instead. _Pushed_.

Playing the victim is easy, as it is a role she has been forced into for too long now, and the Vale treats her kindly again. Petyr is good to her.

Until he sells her off to Ramsay Bolton.

* * *

Ramsay is cruel, worse than Joffrey. Her blood stains sheets, and Theon is no help – he is not the man she once knew, only a shell of himself now and he stares at her hair, whispering about how it was once red. She is destroyed, broken porcelain that has lost any beauty it once had, and she wishes for death.

* * *

“Did you…” Sansa hears the whisper one day, from the door. She gathers the bloody blankets around her, hiding her modesty despite all that has happened. It is still _her_ body. “Did you ever find them?” Theon asks, his hands shaking and his eyes on the wall behind her.

Her soulmate, he means.

“Yes.” Sansa whispers, her thoughts going to Margaery. What has happened to her now? Sansa can only hope she is safe, yet there is no way to know.

“Are they alive still?”

“Yes.”

Theon nods, finally looking at her properly. Sansa notices the tears in his eyes. Soulmates still mean so much to Sansa, not as the same as they once had, but sill. She recognises his pain as the loss of his soulmate. _Robb_.

“You betrayed him.” Sansa reminds Theon.

“I will never forgive myself.”

“ _I_ forgive you.”

* * *

They escape, leaving Ramsay and Winterfell in hopes for a better future – anything is better than that _bastard_.

A woman saves them, insisting she is a friend of Catelyn (Sansa barely remembers her mother now, and her heart breaks at the very thought of the woman), and Sansa is forced to trust her.

However, Theon sees it as his leave. Sansa grips at him tightly, as his arms wrap around her. She will miss him. He is a bittersweet reminder of _home_. They are not one another’s soulmates, but there is a bond between them that Sansa is afraid to lose.

“Come back to me.” Sansa begs.

“I will.” He promises, voice shaky. “Perhaps I will meet your soulmate too.”

“One day.” She smiles, heartbroken.

* * *

So much is lost and gained after she meets with Jon again. Sansa is reunited with a brother, and he brushes a hand through her hair fondly, murmuring that the colours would have been nice to see; he has met and lost his soulmate.

She loses a brother too. Rickon. Wild and beautiful Rickon, her youngest brother who was never given a chance to live. Sansa mourns him in silence, with Jon’s arms curled around her.

Ramsay death brings some peace to her, and Winterfell is her home again. The snow against the ground is a familiar memory, which Sansa had never expected to see again. Margaery would look beautiful surrounded by the snowflakes, bright against the white.

Sansa has almost forgotten her, as she has forgotten the sound of her father’s laugh or the way her sister had scowled in annoyance, and she holds desperately to the thought of Margaery dancing in the snow.

* * *

“King in the North! King in the North!” The words echo around her, and Sansa smiles at the sound of chanting. Her brother deserves this. Jon looks toward her, questioning. In reassurance, Sansa gives a gentle smile. He returns it.

In the darkness of the room, he appears beautiful, but _cold_. He is truly the White Wolf. Sansa is proud of him, honoured to call him her brother after so long of shame and harshness directed his way. Jon is a good man; he will make a good King. Sansa will support him.

Her smile remains, as she looks around the room. Sansa takes in the black of Lyanna Mormont’s dress and the red of her lips. She glances to Littlefinger,  shaking her head at the extravagant colours of his clothing compared to the cloaks of the northerners. She looks up at the Stark banners, and smirks at the colours. She can _finally_ see them.

Then, as quick as she has taken them in, the colours are fading. Green turns to grey, whilst the walls turn to a deep black. All around her, pinks turn to white and blues to lighter greys. Colour disappears with each second and Sansa’s smile turns to a panicked frown. Her happiness becomes fear. Her once bright, beautiful world becomes dark.

Sansa understands what it means. _Margaery_.

Her soulmate is dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there were a few requests for a margaery pov (which i may do at some point), but i adapted an old drabble to fit a reincarnation soulmate au. thanks guys!

Across the hallway, there is a loud and musical laugh. Curiously, Sansa glances over. She finds a girl, bright despite the dull white and black. Her smile is warm, directed at the curly-haired boy beside her – Loras Tyrell. Usually, Sansa’s eyes would be frozen on Loras, but the girl seems more interesting than him. Loras is beautiful, but the girl is a Goddess. Sansa can do nothing except stare, awed.

Then, the girl is looking toward Sansa. Her eyes light up almost, as they lock with Sansa’s own. Suddenly, the younger’s world is bursting in colour. She releases a quiet gasp, shocked.

All her life, Sansa has been dreaming of her soulmate. When she had saw him across the hallway, similar to now, she had thought Joffrey was her soulmate. However, the girl had been disappointed to discover that he wasn't – until his true nature was revealed, that was. Then, her admiration for Loras had grown. Now, though, Sansa can't imagine wishing for anyone else but this girl to be her soulmate.

The girl, still a stranger to Sansa, has rich chestnut hair that shines in the light. Her smile has turned to a smirk, but it's still welcoming, with a slight hint of mischievousness.

Sansa’s cheeks are surely a dark red, matching her hair if her mother’s description had meant anything. The girl – _her soulmate!_ – is unbothered, only further amused, and she makes a move toward Sansa.

Then, just as quick as the girl had entered her life, she is gone. Loras tugs her away. Desperately, Sana makes a move to follow, but they grow lost in the crowd.

* * *

 

Two weeks later, after too much searching and a pathetic amount of moping, Sanasa finds her again. She stands with Renly Baratheon, the school’s Head Boy, and Loras again. They are all gorgeous, although Sansa only has eyes for her soulmate – her crush on Loras is only a distant memory.

“Mooning over Loras, I see? You do know how to pick them.” Comments a voice to her left. Sansa jumps in surprise, before twisting around to glare at the newcomer. Theon Greyjoy.

“No.” Sansa insists, arms crossing over her chest in annoyance. Admittedly, she adores Theon – especially after he had taken Jeyne to their year six prom; it had been surprisingly sweet – but that is something he doesn't need to know. It would only fuel his ego.

“It's understandable, but hopeless.” Theon continues. Sansa cares little for Loras now; she wants to know the girl’s name, but is too shy to ask Theon. “Baratheon is his soulmate.” He adds in a whisper, grinning slightly.

Sansa rolls her eyes, choosing to ignore his babbling. She interrupts, hoping to learn what she can about her soulmate. “And their friend?”

“Loras’ sister. Margaery.” Theon says easily, barely needing to think.

Margaery.

Margaery Tyrell.

Now with a name, Sansa glances back over at the group. Loras and Renly have left, moving down the corridor with their hands held tightly, although the former's sister remained, searching through her bag now. ”Margaery,” Sansa breathes out, lips curling up in a wide grin.

“Is she your soulmate?” Theon questions, almost excitedly. He claps a hand on her back, dragging Sansa’s attention away from Margaery.

“Shouldn't you be more bothered with your own?” The girl retorts. She’s annoyed, but her tone is fond (and sympathetic too, yet Sansa will never admit to it). ”Where's Robb?”

Theon shakes his head, losing his smile. ”With Jeyne.” Ah, Jeyne Westerling. Robb's newest girlfriend. One more relationship before he realises how much he loves Theon. They’re soulmates, and have known for years now, but both boys are insistent about ignoring it. Platonic soulmates, Robb had said once, but Sansa knows better – they all do.

”Good luck.” She murmurs, gentle.

”You too, Princess.” And then, he is gone, leaving the Stark girl alone.

Put out by Theon's sadness, Sansa huffs quietly and turns back to Margaery. Theon’s own soulmate situation may be difficult, but Sansa is hopeful her own will be different.

When she does look to the other girl, she certainly didn't expect to find Margaery smirking lazily at her. Similarly to the first meeting (or lack thereof), Sansa flushes darkly. Margaery laughs, the sound echoing throughout the almost empty hall beautifully. She give Sansa a wave, before pushing away from the wall and moving toward Sansa.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a tiny snippet of the girls in modern au

An arm is wrapped around her waist, ticking at Sansa's side and keeping her tight against Margaery's slim body. Her grip is strong. Sansa is happy to relax against her girlfriend – her soulmate – and presses a long kiss to Margaery's lips, earning a breathy sigh from the brunette.

When Margaery kisses back, fierce and dirty, Sansa finds herself gasping loudly and pressing further into the girl. Her cheeks are warm, but Margaery only smiles against Sansa's lips – proud of causing the dark blush that paints Sansa's cheeks.

"I adore you." Sansa whispers, unashamed.

In response, Margaery kisses her again – she doesn't need to say the words, can easily show the reached how much she means to Margaery.

Neither say another word, instead sharing kiss after kiss. Some short and sweet, whilst others are deep and dirty, making Sansa gasp in pleasure. Margaery smirks each time Sansa lets out a breathy sound. It's far from the girl who used to bite at her lip every time she wanted to cry out.

Eventually, they stop, relaxing against Sansa's bird instead. They're both exhausted, but still smile fondly at one another.

"I'm glad it's you." Margaery whispers, tugging Sansa closer. The red-haired girl Chris into the other girl, comfortable and content in Margaery's arms. It's everything she's ever wanted.

It's good – perfect – and Sansa is happy.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> everyone was like "margaery pov" and I never did it until i decided to read this shit again & write this snippet in ten minutes

Her cousins had so often been distracted with tales of soulmates, but Margaery had never been so fascinated by simple stories. She humoured them, of course, as it was expected of a young girl to think of nothing but the man who was destined to be hers. 

Margaery’s relationship with the concept was more complicated, though. She believed – there was nothing to say they didn't exist, after all – but disliked it nonetheless. Whilst Garlan was happy with his soulmate, the magic had never reached Willas and kept Loras hiding in the dark. Her parents were not soulmates either. 

Having a soulmate was a weakness. Margaery refused to be weak. Instead, she would strong – she would we be a Queen. The Queen. 

+

Her hatred for soulmates melted away when Margaery first glanced upon Sansa Stark. A young girl, scared and unhappy and so very beautiful. 

She does not know it yet, but this is the girl she will love.

+

She touches Sansa’s arm lightly and her world bursts with colour. Red hair is the first thing she spots, bright against the stark blue of the sky and the purple of her dress.

I will keep you safe, Margaery promises silently. 

She gives Sansa a kind smile, guiding the girl toward where her grandmother awaits. 

I will do anything for you, Margaery thinks and knows it to be true.

+

They share kisses amongst rose bushes. Margaery falls in love with a beautiful girl, who is slowly growing happy, finding joy in a place that has only ever been cruel to her. 

+

Joffrey dies. 

It's satisfying to watch, but Margaery knows Sansa will be blamed. Her soulmate will be stolen away from her, mostly likely murdered by the Lannisters. 

+

Sansa is gone.

She is alive, that is all Margaery knows. The colours have yet to leave her and that is all that matters. 

+

Margaery should have suspected it would have all fallen to pieces in the end. Cersei would never let her live.

She imagines it is a sweet mercy for Loras, who has longed for death since Renly left him. He will welcome death like an old friend, but Margaery does not take so kindly to her life being cut so short. 

But her concern is Sansa. Sansa, who has been gone for so long, yet is alive and breathing and existing somewhere. Sansa, whose world will turn to grey, dull and ruined, whilst flames lick at Margaery’s skin and take her life.


End file.
